


Baby

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [38]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Drinking, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, New York City, the red nose diaries, tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmen's birthday shenanigans are still going on in New York, where T & C decide to take a slight detour on the way back from an intimate supper downtown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I like taking the subway in New York. The trains are loud and fast, much like the passengers who ride them. We stand on platforms in anticipation of that _whoosh_ , the zephyr that proclaims the arrival of our chariots before they come screeching into the station. And where do these trains bring us? To our destinations, sure, but also in closer contact with the city, and with each other. Though with so many of us avoiding each other’s gazes, it is possible to protect our anonymity. Keep on keeping our guards up.

My guard is always up in public. It has to be. I am ever on alert, even more so when Carmen is with me. She can look after herself, even in a city as large and chaotic as New York can be. But I can’t help feeling it would be easier if…

“Cambridge.”

I looked down to find her peering at me. Cheeks rosy after the boozy Italian supper we had just finished downtown (and the rather energetic fucking we’d just enjoyed in our Midtown hotel before that), Carmen’s eyes shone at me in the strange bluish lights of the train carriage.

“What is it, Button?”

She poke me gently in the stomach. “You’re lost in thought again.”

“Correct, darling.”

“And maybe a little buzzed from the Prosecco?”

“Perhaps.” I booped her nose, and she laughed.

“Anything I can help you with?”

I cupped her jaw, brushing her cheek with my thumb. She turned her head slightly so she could kiss my palm. Her brow furrowed when something caught her eye.

“What’s wrong?” I turned my head in time to see a flash go off a few yards away. And then another. When I frowned, I saw another flash.

“I thought New Yorkers were too cool to care about strange Englishmen taking public transportation,” I murmured.

“That you’re strange, I’ll give you, but New Yorkers aren’t too cool. Especially when the Englishman is so very handsome. And maybe a little familiar to the movie-going public.” She smiled ruefully.

“Is it too much to hope they’re snapping somebody else?”

“Maybe,” Carmen sighed.

“Can we move to a different car?” We were crowded in the centre, both of us holding onto a nearby pole and each other. “Perhaps not. Maybe if I try huddling down like so…” I pretended to burrow under the cover of her coat when the train lurched. I stumbled back but stayed upright. Carmen slipped an arm around my waist as she fell into me.

The intercom buzzed with the near unintelligible voice of the driver, and then all of a sudden the doors opened. The train had been departing a station, so we passengers didn’t fall out onto the tracks but instead streamed onto a platform. Following the crowd, who seemed to understand from the noise that the train was out of service, we found our way up and out onto Lexington Avenue.

“Over here!” Carmen pulled me away from the surge, heading west on 52nd Street and then north on Park Avenue. Even with the traffic, it was peaceful. We walked slowly, pausing at every corner to kiss, look both ways, then cross to the next. When I heard Carmen humming, I stopped.

“Come on, birthday Button…” I held her in my arms, where she squirmed a little. “Sing.”

“Aren’t you supposed to sing to me? Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Already did that at the restaurant, with the help of our waiter.”

“But I don’t completely understand Italian,” she pouted.

“I assure you, the birthday song is quite the same.”

“Do I hafta?”

“Hafta?” I snorted. “Are we 7 or 37, love?”

“37, Sporty. A prime number and all that.” She grinned like a Cheshire cat, then looked over my shoulder. “What would you like to hear?”

“Well,” I said. “How about whatever it was that you were humming?”

“Oh.” Carmen looked a bit bashful. “Not really in my range…”

“Please, baby,” I whispered.

“Alright. But not here.” She peeked at the doorman who stood under the awning of a nearby apartment building, trying not to eavesdrop. “Let’s just head back, yeah?”

We were a few blocks away from the hotel, a quick walk with Carmen taking little dancey steps or letting me twirl her as she quietly sang. It only felt like it was about to rain, and maybe it was a bit cold but I didn’t care. She was singing, we were dancing, and for a moment we had the city to ourselves.

 _And she said honey take me dancing_  
_But they ended up sleeping_  
_In a doorway_  
_By the bodegas and the lights on_  
_Upper Broadway_  
_Wearing diamonds on the soles of their shoes_

We burst into the hotel lobby laughing, me with my arms wrapped around her from behind so I could walk her to the lift. Joao the manager greeted us with twinkling eyes, stifling a laugh with his hand before he went back to helping some decidedly less festive guests at his podium.

Upstairs I put on the Stones while Carmen found the bottle of Jameson that greeted me when I checked in a few days ago. Now clad only in the so-called blue t-shirt of sex and a pair of black knickers, a second wind kept her dancing between sips from the bottle. I took it from her, taking a swig before I set it on the bedside table, and began a little striptease.

“Oh baby…” Carmen sighed, her eyes sweeping up and down my increasingly naked form. “I still think you should have auditioned for Magic Mike.”

“Maybe I’ll send a note to Channing Tatum, see if there are plans in the offing for an English franchise. Me, Ben, maybe Colin.” I mused, flinging a sock at the bedside lamp. “But for now, allow me to entertain you.”

“Oh brother.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Here we go!”

“Presenting for your titillation, I am…” I twirled an imaginary moustache. “ _Je suis_ The Cambridge Cock-Swain!”

“OH MY GOD!” Carmen hooted. “A rowing pun in your stripper name? Way to use that double-first in classics, baby.”

“Tuition well spent, my love.” I got up on the end of my bed, singing into a complimentary hotel slipper as Mick Jagger yowled away:

 _I laid a divorcee in New York City_  
_I had to put up some kind of a fight_  
_The lady then she covered me with roses_  
_She blew my nose and then she blew my mind_

Carmen leapt up, grabbing my hands so we could jump together. It didn’t last long as we fell, a tangle of limbs and sweaty hair and flushed cheeks. Before too long my lips found her lips, found her neck, then the swell of her breasts. I sucked on her nipples, pushing her shirt up with one hand and fumbling for her clit with the other.

“Oh god, baby, yes…” Her hands were tangled in my hair, then clutching at the bedsheets while my tongue flicked over those hardened buds over and over again. She was so wet, and I was so hard but my fingers were still buried in her sex and then...

DING DONG!

And then there was a pounding on the door.

“WHAT?” Carmen sat up, looking dazed and not a little angry. “WHO?!”

The pounding came again, and I slumped against her. “Can we pretend there isn’t someone there?” I winced when I felt my hard cock brush against the bedding. “Argh!”

“We could but I think the sound of the Stones is giving us away.” She wriggled beneath me. “I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, Button,” I groaned.

Carmen covered me with a sheet, then bounced up to the door. She checked that her tits were tucked away into her shirt, and tugged on a pair of pyjama bottoms, before opening it. When we saw who it was, she blushed and I groaned again.

Hugh Laurie stood in the doorway looking a little embarrassed but still grinning.

“Well,” he drawled, “I was going to see if you two fancied joining me for a late night ‘do at a friend’s flat nearby. But, erm, you’re already in for the evening, it seems.”

“Yes,” I muttered. Carmen joined me by the bed, holding open a robe for me to slip into. When I tied it shut, she slipped an arm around me at the waist.

“And this charming young lady? I’m sorry but we’ve not been properly introduced.” Hugh smiled at her, then bowed.

“Carmen.  Carmen DiGregorio.” She permitted Hugh to kiss her hand.

“Aw, the fiancee!”

“And birthday girl,” I finished proudly.

“Many happy returns, darling. You’ve already celebrated, I see?”

“Yes, Mr. Laurie,” purred Carmen. “Several times, in fact.”

Hugh laughed, a funny little bark. “Fair play, dear. Happy birthday. I would offer you a bottle of vintage Champagne but, from the looks of that whiskey, and the sounds of the Stones, I’d say the best thing I could give you is my hasty retreat.”

Carmen shrugged. “Well, as long as you’re offering…” When Hugh looked aghast, she laughed and gave him a hug. “Sorry, Mr. Laurie. Thank you for the good wishes. But seriously…” She looked at me. “I’ve got everything I need here.”

“Love is all you need, isn’t that what The Beatles say?” Hugh said.

“Well, I was referring to the Jameson, but yeah, the love, too.” With a laugh, she left Hugh’s side, hugging me again and, once he had departed, let me take her once again to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's feeling tender and a little more introspective than usual the morning after Carmen arrives in New York to celebrate her birthday

Last night I dreamed of home.

Same dream as the night before, and the night before that. Pretty much every night I have been away from London. And I have been away so long.

In the dream I woke up on a cool, slightly rainy morning. Carmen, still asleep, was snuggled against my chest. I went for a run, returning just as she was stirring awake. She accepted my invitation to shower together, then we began our day.

The rest of it unfolded slowly, beautifully. I stole bites of her eggs at breakfast, then we ambled around the neighbourhood. Lunch was a massive bag of popcorn washed down with a Coke at the cinema, where instead of watching the picture we snogged until the final credits rolled. Afterwards we went home to make love, breaking for supper, some reading, and then bed.

I hated waking from this dream, a vision of stability that I longed for. This domestic bliss that I somehow knew was years from becoming my daily life. There was too much work left to be done. So much farther to go before… what? What prize? What reward? How much longer would I have to wait? How long would she?

“Baby.”

I lifted my head from her soft belly, my favourite pillow, and opened my eyes. Carmen smiled down at me, her cheeks flushed pink with contentment. She blew a few strands of hair out of her face.

“Congratulations on surviving the great birthday Rolling Stones striptease fiasco of 2016, baby.”

I kissed her hip. “Thank you, Button. How did you sleep?”

She shrugged. “Pretty well, considering there was this dude in my bed who wouldn’t leave me alone…”

“Oh?” I ran a hand up from her belly to her left breast, stroking it gently.

Carmen inhaled slowly. “Yeah,” she murmured. “He wouldn’t let me sleep.” She reached down, brushing her fingers against my face. “Wouldn’t let me rest until he could touch me, until he could taste me.” When I swiped her nipple with my thumb, she shivered.

“He makes no apology.”

“Figures. He always gets his way, doesn’t he?”

I pushed myself up, just for a moment before I straddled her. Placing my hands carefully on Carmen’s hips, I considered my enchanting quarry.

She bit back a laugh when I leaned forward, kissing up from between her breasts, along her right shoulder and collarbone until my lips arrived at the sweet crook of her neck. I lingered there, nuzzling her jaw.

“Good morning, love,” I whispered.

My hands, which had found purchase on the headboard so I didn’t just collapse on top of her, sought out her own small ones among the bedclothes. Fingers intertwined, I carefully brought her hands down to the small of my back. She dug her nails in, then draped her legs around mine.

We moaned together when I took my cock in hand and brushed the tip of her clit. I couldn’t resist doing it again, and so Carmen’s nails dug harder into my buttocks.

“Please,” she said quietly.

I entered her slowly, my mind emptying of nothing but thoughts of her. There was nothing else I wanted, nobody I needed. She tasted like water, sweet and clean. In my arms, she felt warm and alive, moving against me and then with me as we found our rhythm.

“You’re so big,” she moaned into my neck. “So good. Oh god, yes. Don’t stop. Please. Don’t. Harder. Harder.”

I planted my hands on either side of her, then boosted myself up on my knees. I felt a surge of power, of lust and heat, and I knew that this was where I was meant to be. Driving into her, feeling the delicious agony of her cunt tightening around me with every thrust. I looked at her body, greedily taking in the bouncing breasts with their taut nipples that I did so love to suck, the round belly that was so soft to the touch. This was the woman I loved, and I was utterly at her mercy.

She slipped a hand between her legs, circling her clit faster and faster so she matched every movement of mine. I loved watching her touch herself, eyes fluttering as she got so close to the edge. And then she arched her back, stiffening as she began to come.

I had mere moments to enjoy the sensation of her coming on me, of feeling the strength of her pleasure and knowing I could make her come like this. A few seconds and I lost control, coming inside her. Then her arms were around me, and we held on to each other.

Perhaps it was indelicate to say but… we fit. My cock and her cunt, my hands on her hips or her ass, her fingers in my hair. Carmen lying across my lap, her bare ass ready to be spanked or paddled, or me kneeling between her legs, tongue poised for pleasure.

From the first time, in that ridiculous car on a bleak winter’s day, to this warm, impossibly soft bed in the early days of spring. It was intense. It was always intense, but somehow never the same. Familiar, more like. Maybe it was cliche to say that lying in the arms of the person you love is like coming home. Perhaps because I never believed it, not truly. Not until her.

Not until after we had both come. We were exhausted, sweaty, spent. All the words used to describe two lovers deflated by lovemaking. We had begun to breathe regularly once more, and I felt heavy. I didn’t want to be the first to disconnect. Lucky for me, she never seemed to like to let me go.

I tried shifting, to give her a little room.

“Eheheheheheheh,” she said, making fun of my laugh. “Not so fast, Sporty. Not yet. I’m not done.”

I gladly resigned myself to nuzzling her cheek, looking at her face as she examined our bodies intertwined. She took one of my hands, kissed it, then placed it tenderly on her hip.

“What’s that?” she whispered.

“Your hip,” I replied. “Your lovely little hip.”

“Nope,” she corrected. “Let’s try it again.” She took that same hand and moved it up, laying it flat on her chest, over her heart.

“What is that?”

“Your heart, darling.”

“Close,” she murmured. “Let me rephrase. Baby, whose is that?”

I got it, smiling against her ear.

“It’s mine, Button.” I kissed her. “It’s mine.”

* * *

We bundled up and took a taxi to the northern end of The High Line. I was feeling a little restless after so many days spent in hotel rooms or auditoriums, and Carmen wanted the exercise. The park was crowded, so we were always on the verge of bumping into tourists who would stop abruptly to take pictures of the city around us. Armed with coffees and a blueberry muffin in Carmen’s handbag, we took our time..

“I like these.” She looked down at some heavy wooden benches, set on inlaid tracks so they rolled back and forth. “They look sturdy. If a bit dangerous. You could lose a finger if you’re not careful.”

“Well, maybe there are bumpers?” I peered at the side of one.

“Well, _I_ could lose a finger. You, Mr. Nude Sunbather, you could lose something else altogether.”

“Brat!” I hissed, then began to tickle her. As Carmen’s face was pressed into my neck, her laughter was muffled but no less sweet.

“Excuse me? Do you know where the nearest…” We looked up to find a petite dark haired woman peering at us. Behind her, two women examined a map between them. “Oh my god…”

“Veronica!” Carmen nudged me. [“Tom, remember them? From the _High-Rise_ party?”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4872067/chapters/11169031)

“You remembered,” murmured one of the women with the map. Her blond hair fluttered gently in the breeze. “Betty. And this is Aurelia. She’s a fan of yours too, Tom!”

Aurelia visibly blanched, her eyes wide under honey coloured fringe, but she recovered quickly. She nodded. “Um, yes? Hello! Sorry to bother you.”

“Not a bother.” I got up to my feet, helping Carmen stand so we could shake hands properly. Carmen giggled when Aurelia had a spot of trouble letting go of my hand. “Lovely to see you again, Betty and Veronica. Aurelia, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Any friend of theirs…”

“Are you guys going to the Times Talk on Monday?” Carmen asked kindly. When they nodded, she grinned. “Hope you get some good questions in.”

“Will you be there too, dear?” Betty’s eyes sparkled.

Carmen shook her head. “Work calls. I just get the weekend with him.”

“Of course, of course,” Aurelia said. “We won’t… I mean, it’s so nice to see you.”

“Lovely to meet you, Aurelia.” Carmen arched an eyebrow at me. “Tom?”

I made a small bow. “Picture, ladies. I insist.”

While we figured out whose cameras to use and in which order, Carmen begged off joining us.  She returned to the bench, laughing at me while I took, and then re-took the pictures. Once I had managed to take a few for each woman where I didn’t look like a giant looming over them, I bid them farewell. I watched them walk south for a few yards, then returned to the bench.

It was there that I found my love had made a new friend. An adorable couple on a neighbouring bench was exclaiming over their toddler, who was curled up in Carmen’s lap. Blueberry muffin crumbs were stuck on his chubby cheeks. He refused his mother’s entreaties to “leave that nice lady alone, Short Round!”

When Carmen looked up to find me gazing at her, so too did the little boy. He pushed his lip out at me, pouting. Maybe because he feared I might take his new friend or, even worse, his snack away. He needn’t have worried, though. I was spellbound by the image of my beloved cuddling a child. A vision to me that looked like a dream, that looked like my future.


End file.
